


Artifact Fragments

by Lady_of_Rohan



Category: Uncharted
Genre: Blood, Caretaking, Daydreaming, Egypt, F/M, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Implied Relationships, Implied Slash, M/M, Older Woman/Younger Man, Propositions, Scarves, Shirtless, Slash, Spies & Secret Agents, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Rohan/pseuds/Lady_of_Rohan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various filled prompts and drabbles written for the lovely Uncharted community on tumblr ... as well as some random drabbles and short fics that simply came to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nate and Elena, "Offer Me"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rhiannon87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/gifts), [zoomalark](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=zoomalark), [deltastic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=deltastic), [jfk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jfk/gifts), [toki-no-eiyuu](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=toki-no-eiyuu), [wendydoodles](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=wendydoodles), [scribblykimbree](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=scribblykimbree).



* * *

While in Egypt, Nate surprises Elena with a little gift. For Rhiannon87.

* * *

 

“Nate, what the hell is this?”  
  
Elena’s fingertips were curiously tracing the haphazardly wrapped package, which appeared to be several pieces of the local newspaper balled up with some tweed string wrapped around it to hold it all in place. A bit awkward, and yet, distinctively _Nate_.  
  
“Just open it.” Nate was grinning, arms crossed over his chest and hands beneath his underarms as if he was physically trying to contain himself. Elena shook her head, admiring his childlike enthusiasm despite the sweltering heat of the Egyptian sun as it beat down upon them. He’d literally stopped her halfway through the bazaar… causing them to pause at the center of a rather crowded market area. Apparently, it just couldn’t wait.  
  
“Well, all right…”  
  
She pulled the string loose and unrumpled the paper, finding a folded up piece of material resting inside of it. It was some shade of purple, not quite lilac and not quite royal.  
  
“Oh… uh… _wow_ ,” she said, holding it up in the sunlight from its makeshift wrapping. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.  
  
“It’s a shemagh!” Nate elaborated, and then gestured to the blue houndstooth wrap around his own neck. “Just like mine. I thought it’d help. Ya know, protection from the heat.”  
  
“It’s nice, Nate. Thanks.” Elena was smiling in a lopsided sort of way, glancing from the desert scarf to Nate’s dusty face. His own shemagh didn’t seem to be helping much, in all honesty… but she supposed it was the thought that counted. The fact that he’d even bothered to wrap the thing was enough for her.  
  
“It’s _authentic_.”  
  
Elena paused for a moment, not quite sure how she should wear it. Or if she should wear it at all? She could only assume by the way Nate was eagerly eying it. Before she could ask what she should do with the unexpected gift, Nate reached a hand out to take it from her.  
  
“Do you want me to help you put it on?”  
  
“Oh, sure,” she shrugged. Elena stood quite still while Nate wrapped the garment loosely around her neck, leaving some fabric in the back so that she could pull it over her head if she wished.  
  
“So, how’s it look?” She raised her hands up, twisting at the waist a bit with her hands on her hips so Nate could look her over. It definitely meshed well with her green button-up shirt. _Not_. She looked like a cartoon dinosaur.  
  
“It suits you.” He leaned in for a kiss, eager for his reward, but Elena had already pulled the scarf over her face and prevented him from making contact with her lips.  
  
“Hey!” Nate pouted as she shoved a palm to his broad chest, pushing away from him as she started off down the street.  
  
“Protection from the sun, huh? More like protection from _you_ ,” she laughed, and waved an arm at him. “Come on, we’ve still got the museum to visit.”  
  
Nate was chuckling as he caught up with her through the throng of people, but Elena could hear him mutter under his breath: “ _some way to appreciate a gift._ ”


	2. Talbot and Marlowe, "Haunt Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Talbot can't stop thinking about Marlowe. For Rhiannon87.

  
_I’ve become your shadow_  
 _I love, but don’t know how to_  
 _I’m always lost for words_  
 _You look like a thousand suns_  
 _I wanna be the only one left when your day is done_  
 _I can’t have you close_  
 _So I become a ghost_  
 _And I watch you_ …

_~Neon Trees_

From moment one, Talbot had loved everything about her. It was that kind of unexplainable, karmic attraction that consumed him entirely and swallowed him whole. Though certainly an intelligent young man, he couldn’t quite fathom how it had happened, or even why.  
  
All he knew was that he was truly enamored with Katherine Marlowe.  
  
With a book propped open in his palms, Talbot was regarding her in what he hoped was a subtle manner from across the expansive library. His heart was hammering in his chest and his hands were slick with perspiration against the leather-bound cover of his current reading material. He held the book a bit higher, so that it was practically covering his face… his keen blue eyes peeking just above the pages to carefully observe the object of his affections. It was perhaps a childish act, but no less effective.  
  
Watching her seemed a great mystery. Marlowe’s every movement seemed to be carried out with a strange dichotomy of calm placidity and raw, untamed fieriness. She was fascinating.

The way she tucked her hair behind her ear as she leaned over the mahogany table to read… how she pursed her lips and knitted her brow in concentration, perhaps even frustration… and even how she casually licked her thumb in order to turn the pages of the aged book laid out in front of her.  
  
 _“Talbot.”_  
  
Even the way she spoke his name had an unusual clarity to it.  
  
“Talbot!”  
  
Lost in his daydreaming, he hadn’t realized that she’d _actually_ spoken his name until she’d said it a second time, with a definite annoyance to her tone.  
  
Marlowe met his gaze from across the library, and his face went hot, embarrassed that he’d been caught in the act of ogling her instead of searching for information as he should have been. She said nothing, merely gestured with her index finger for him to come to her. Without hesitation, he obeyed, assuming he’d be reprimanded as he stood beside her at the table.  
  
“I assume you know how to translate this?” she asked, looking up only briefly from the ancient book that she’d been perusing.  
  
“Latin?” he questioned, attempting not to stare too eagerly at her green eyes as she glanced at him. He promptly forced himself to take a look at the aged, yellowed pages of the book, happy for the distraction as his ears flushed pink. “Yes. Yes of course, Marlowe.”  
  
“Good. See to it, then.”  
  
With a pat on his shoulder and a commanding nod, Marlowe was already making her way towards the other side of the library, leaving him to his reading…. her high-heels clicking all the way.  
  
A sigh escaped Talbot’s lips as he watched her go, willing himself to concentrate on his work.

He wandered how long she’d require him, if she’d ever look up and truly _see him_.. and not just _through him_ like the ghost of a man that he was.

Talbot supposed it didn’t matter. Just a simple glance of acknowledgement was excuse enough to follow her without question… even if he was nothing more than her shadow.


	3. Nate and Flynn, "Call Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate shows up unexpectedly at Flynn's doorstep. For Astudyinchuck.

“Flynn! Jesus, open your door or answer your phone or… _something_.”  
  
After knocking rather hard with his bloodstained knuckles, Nate was leaning his forehead against the doorframe of the supposed residence of a certain Harry Flynn. That was, if his memory served him right in his state of bloodloss and exhaustion. He was out of breath, out of luck, and almost out of time, with the way the blood was pooling through is fingertips and saturating the pant-leg of his blue jeans. The bullet wound in his leg was the result of a business transaction gone awry and the firefight that ensued… not like that was anything new, but he’d used his last remaining energy to locate his nearest associate. Nate could only hope it was the right choice.   
  
He was up shit creek without a paddle, as Sully would say. Whatever that meant. What he really needed was a place to crash and recuperate without having to check into a hospital, which required money and would likely result in him being taken in by the local authorities. _Again_.   
  
Flynn would understand. Flynn always understood…  
  
 _If_ he actually answered his goddamned door, he’d be a guardian angel of sorts. Well, if your guardian angel was an attractive British man with a goatee and a penchant for sarcasm.  
  
He hit the buzzer again, releasing a weary sigh and leaving a few traces of blood as the pad of his index finger pressed down upon it. Drake was about to sit down on the front steps of the apartment complex and outright collapse when the door opened at last, revealing a perplexed-looking Flynn and causing Nate to nearly fall through the doorway, his weight still pressed against it.   
  
“ _Drake?_ Well, nice o’ you to drop in,” remarked his old friend, acting quickly with his palms against Nate’s shoulders to keep him upright. His grey eyes scanned up and down his body briefly, immediately noticing the bright red stains marring his clothing. “Woulda made us some tea and crumpets.”  
  
“Sorry.” Nate shrugged. “Kinda short notice.”   
  
Flynn could only shake his head. “What in the _bloody hell_ happened this time?”  
  
“Uh… kind of a long story. Tell you over tea?”   
  
“How bou’ a beer instead?”  
  
“Even better.”  
  
Harry scoffed, even as he slipped an arm around Nate’s waist and urged him into his apartment. Nate practically tripped through the doorway in all of his clumsiness, but Flynn didn’t let him fall.   
  
“Whoa, whoa… easy there, mate,” he said, his grip tightening around his friend. “Let’s getcha patched up. Come on, I’ve got a kit in the bathroom…. but, ah, you’re gonna have to take off those jeans. Not havin’ you track blood everywhere.”   
  
Nate could only offer a wry smile as Flynn raised an eyebrow at him, just barely concealing his mirth.  
  
“Thought you’d never ask.”


	4. Nate and Flynn, "Join Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn has a propisition for Nate. Takes place sometime after the last chapter. For toki-no-eiyuu.

“Come on, mate, I really need your help with this one. It’s more than a one-man job.”

Hah, like Nate hadn’t heard _that one_ before…  
  
“I dunno, Flynn… I’m not really healed yet.”  
  
As he made the excuse, Nate scratched absentmindedly at the stubble upon his chin, shaking his head as he looked over the map of Cambodia held in his grasp. As usual, the costs seemed to far outweigh the benefits of such an excursion. He was also kind of broke, and they’d need to do some serious traveling to obtain the artifact in question. After his last little “adventure,” which resulted in an unpleasant bullet-wound and nearly being admitted to the hospital, he felt it was a little too soon to be begging Sully for some cash. Flynn was asking an awful lot… and yet, part of him was having difficulty resisting. Still, he didn’t want to seem _too_ eager…  
  
“And when has that ever stopped you? Besides,” said Flynn, with that all-too-charming grin of his. “You owe me one.”  
  
“Hah!” Nate laughed and took another sip of his drink. He glanced around the bar, trying not to make eye contact. Perhaps if he didn’t look at his friend directly, he wouldn’t fall under the usual spell. “Since when?”  
  
“Since you showed up bleeding at my doorstep…”  
  
“Aw, come on… that doesn’t count—”  
  
“… and proceeded to stay for _three sodding days_.”  
  
“Hey, I was hurt,” said Nate, as he jabbed his index finger against the table for emphasis. “I didn’t have anywhere else I could go.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah… you were milking it for all it’s worth, you nancy-boy.”  
  
Nate decided to ignore the insult as Flynn leaned in close to give him a good-natured punch in the arm.   
  
“ _Ow_ ,” he winced, and then muttered: “Not my fault you went along with it.”   
  
At that, Flynn bristled and promptly snatched the map from him.  
  
“Listen, that’s all rather besides the point, yeah? Are you in or not?”  
  
Flynn was now staring at him intently, his eyebrows knitted and lips curved downwards into a semi-pout, knowing that it would get to him. _God damn him_. Releasing the most exasperated sigh he could possibly muster, Nate gave in… his shoulders deflating somewhat.

“ _Fine_.”  
  
“I knew ya’d come around, mate,” he said, with an arm now slung around Nate’s neck. Nate could only roll his eyes at the familiar pattern, focusing on the remainder of his beer. He was going to need it.  
  
As usual, Harry Flynn had gotten exactly what he wanted… all thanks to him.


	5. Tallowe, "Break Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talbot reflects upon his mistakes while in Syria. For zoomalark.

  
Talbot had really botched it up this time.  
  
Sitting on his haunches to observe the fallen agent at his feet, he took the man’s wrist and felt for a pulse. Through the layers of suit and the man’s leather jacket, combined with the dim lighting of the Citadel… it was difficult to tell where precisely the blood was pooling from and causing a puddle to slowly spread. There appeared to be several bullet holes. It would be a marvel if he were still alive, but he didn’t keep his expectations high. Talbot waited another moment, just to be sure, and then scowled deeply as he allowed the man’s hand to flop back to his side. There was no heartbeat.  
  
 _Shit._  
  
Talbot stood and raised a hand to his earpiece, and then took a step backwards when he realized that the blood had flowed in such a way that he was now standing in the slick, sticky liquid.  
  
“Another body near the entrance,” he said, voice low and just hardly audible. “Agent 68. Send a cleaner immediately.”   
  
He scuffed the bottom of his shoe against the ground, managing to scrape off any traces of blood before the crimson liquid stained. Clicking his earpiece off, Talbot scowled in frustration. Marlowe wasn’t going to be pleased by such news, as the death toll had already been brought up to twelve men down… and another handful seriously wounded.   
  
All thanks to Mr. Drake.   
  
The name made his blood boil, but undoubtedly, Marlowe’s frustration far outweighed his own. Drake had been a thorn in her side even before he’d entered the scene.   
  
Already, his superior’s anger had been taken out on him. He’d been with her, up in the highest point in the Citadel, when they received the news of Drake’s unexpected arrival. Prior to such an interruption, he’d been receiving accolades for his success in France. For the first time in what seemed like ages, Marlowe was truly pleased… not only with their progress, but with _him_. He’d retrieved half of the artifact as well as ridding them of Drake and Sullivan. One fell swoop. The Chateau had seemed a rare occasion in which everything went smoothly, and Talbot had sincerely thought he’d performed well… that was, until everything came crashing down around him, more fiery than the Chateau that they’d burned to the ground.  
  
In her outrage, Marlowe had smacked him across the face, her rare cordial mood swiftly transforming to one of fury. Far from abusive to him, it wasn’t something she often did, and he’d taken the hit with as much poise as he could muster. Still, she’d made her point and had made it well. Though he tried desperately to explain himself, she would have none of it. Marlowe reprimanded him for his faulty fact-checking and general cockiness. Furthermore, she’d accused him of lying, of which she had zero tolerance for. That, he had to admit, had stung far more than any physical blow… even though he’d told her only what had been perceived as truth until the current moment.

Even through it all, Talbot didn’t blame her one bit. He deserved it, and would do anything in his power to set things right. He should have been more vigilant, more humble, less eager. Now, because of his actions, twenty long years worth of searching was at stake. Though he was tempted to simply voice an apology, he knew that his words would mean nothing to her. The damage was already done, and no amount of apologizing could lessen the carnage… some of which was laying right in front of him.

  
His hand absentmindedly came to rub against the stubble upon his cheek, brow knitted and his scowl deepening as he stepped out into the clear, Syrian night.  Several agents came hurriedly across the bridge, with the necessary supplies to be rid of the bodies. Talbot offered a mere nod of acknowledgement as they rushed past him, his thoughts still elsewhere as he rested the weight of his palms over the edge of the stonework.   
  
Marlowe’s words were still echoing in his head, the prior exchange playing out over and over again.  
  
 _“What… would you have me do?”_  
 _“Just… stop him, Talbot. Stop Nathan. I don’t care how you do it. Just keep him from interfering with our work. Can you do that?”_  
 _“I’ll see that Drake is dealt with. I promise, I won’t let you down.”_  
 _“Good. That’s a promise I expect you to keep. Now, leave my sight.”_  
 _She pointed off into the distance, expression cold and stern, as if he were a dog that she could just shoo away. Marlowe may as well have slapped him again. As he managed to tear his eyes from hers, his poise deflated somewhat, he was halfway towards the stairs when Marlowe’s voice echoed through the corridor of the uppermost tower._  
 _“Oh, and Talbot?”_  
 _He’d paused, looking over his shoulder as her voice called out to him. The look of disappointment upon her features was already enough to kill him. He couldn’t bear it. Still, he managed to find his voice._  
 _“Yes?”_  
 _“If this happens again, the consequences will be infinitely more severe. I hope you realize that.”_  
 _A beat of silence passed as he gave a solemn nod, before retreating down the stairs. “Understood.”_

  
With his lips pursed into a thin, straight line and blue eyes narrowed in determination, Talbot looked out over the Citadel and the soldiers gathering below. If they located Drake’s whereabouts, he’d be the first to know.   
  
There was still time to set things straight and redeem himself in Marlowe’s eyes. He’d make sure of it.


	6. Gone Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short fic I wrote back in 2012 about Nate and Elena breaking up... when I was going through my divorce.

_"I'm leaving. I think I need some time."_

The words resounded through Elena's head long after Nate had half-scuffled, half-carried his meager suitcase full of belongings out the front door of the apartment complex. Ungraceful as always. There had been few words said on her behalf, for Mr. Drake had already packed his things long before speaking to her of the matter, as if he wanted to make the quickest, cleanest exit possible... quite the opposite of how things typically worked out in his life. She couldn't say she was surprised, she never was any more... but the feeling of numbness spreading through her body and stemming from her heart was impossible to ignore.

Elena could do nothing more than watch, solemnly, from the window as he awaited the taxi cab... occasionally checking his wrist cuff watch as if he had somewhere to be. She knew he didn't. Adventure called him, wherever that may be. It could be an Tibet, it could be England or even Mexico... it could be some island in the Philippines. Wherever the next big catch was...

She wondered if she'd ever be the next big catch. At one point in her life, she thought that she was. But lately, not so much.

Before he left, throwing his luggage into the trunk, Nate pivoted slightly and glanced up reverently at the window... and Elena was reminded of when they'd visited Egypt and he'd looked up at the great pyramid of Giza in the same way, casting the sun from his eyes. Somehow, it was as if he knew she'd be there. And he should, by now, because this was the third time that Nathan Drake had walked out of her life. Elena gave a half-hearted wave, more of a salute as he situated himself in the backseat and shut the door. The taxi dragged a trail of dust in its wake, the stifling summer heat creating an optical illusion of colorful ripples through the air, like a desert mirage.

It drove farther, farther, and farther still until it was a mere blip down the street. Nate was gone... _again_ , and she was left alone in a half-furnished apartment and a cheap freezer pizza for two cooking in the oven.

Elena's fingers ran through her blonde hair, loosened from its unkempt ponytail. It didn't hit her until she replayed their last moments spent together in her mind. As his words slammed back into her brain as forcefully as a sledgehammer, Elena sunk to her knees and cried. Tears spilled down her cheeks beyond her control... and she was at least thankful that she'd managed to hold it all in until he'd left. Last time, she hadn't been as strong.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there with her face cradled in her palms, but it was long enough. On shaky knees, dark thoughts surfaced. She wondered why she put herself through such torture month after month. She wondered if and when he'd come back... if he'd find something that caught his fancy more than her, if she was even good enough for the life of treasure hunting... or a life of being Mrs. Drake.

Maybe she just wasn't cut out for it. Maybe he was better off traveling the world with Sully. Again, Nate's words replayed like a broken record.

_"I'll be back, okay?"_

_"Yeah."_

Elena had stood numbly as Nate lingered in the doorway, her arms crossed and lips quivering. But her stance remained strong and unwavering.

He was halfway through the door when he dropped his bags and closed the distance between them, and the distance had seemed so great, until he tipped her chin and planted a gentle kiss upon her forehead. Elena wanted to cling to him, to tell him to stay with her... to tell him to stop being so damned reckless and to just make up his goddamned mind already. But she was too proud, and Nathan Drake was prouder. Nothing she could say would change his mind. Like a compass, he was set in his ways. He knew which direction he wanted to take... a direction that always seemed to point farther and farther away from her.

As she stood at last, wiping the fresh tears from her cheeks, Elena glanced at her wedding band, gleaming and silver upon her left hand as she toyed with it.

_"I love you, Elena."_

_"I know."_

_"I promise, I'll be back."_

Of _course_ he would, tomorrow, next month... maybe even next year. Whenever _he_ felt like it. She wondered if love was enough to bring him back to her doorstep this time.

She had her doubts. It was only natural, after all. Only time would tell if he would prove her wrong.

Glancing at the window one last time as beams of sunshine peeked through the curtains, Elena hoped to God that Nate was right this time.


	7. DrakexFlynn, Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Blood" prompt for scribblykimbree on tumblr! I read too much Dan Brown. Basilica is a fun word.

Nate was walking at a brisk pace, the sound of Flynn’s footsteps closely behind him and reverberating throughout the basilica.  
  
He was halfway towards the exit, the first rays of sunlight pouring through the stained-glass windows, when the echoing footfalls ceased.  
  
He spun around, shoes skidding as he slid against the marble floor, just in time to see Flynn grasping at the nearest pew, leaning heavily against it. The chamber was dimly lit, but he could tell that his partner was terribly out of breath.  
  
"Flynn? Hey!" he laughed, knowing that Flynn was a little out of practice in all of this. He backtracked towards him and waved a hand. "Come on! This is no time to be out of shape, we have to go while we’ve got a head start on the competition."  
  
"Sod off," Flynn gasped, only half-joking. His voice was strained as he clutched at his waist. "Afraid it’s too late for that, mate."

Nate’s brow furrowed in confusion as he noticed deep red staining Flynn’s fingertips… and then dropped his gaze to see the dark pool of liquid at his feet.  
  
His blood ran cold. They weren’t alone.  
  
 _Silencers. They had silencers…  they’d followed them and shot him._  
  
Nate was suddenly wary, a sense of dread washing over him as he clamped a reassuring palm over Flynn’s shoulder. “Oh my God, Flynn… I’m so sorry I—”  
  
"Shut up." Flynn cut him off. There were footsteps in the distance. "We’ve gotta get a move on."  
  
Nate nodded, knowing he was right. He looked directly into Flynn’s grey eyes, now clouded. His expression was pained. The shock probably hadn’t even hit him yet… he knew from experience.  
  
 _Too much experience._  
  
Instinctively, Nate hefted him away from the pew, wrapping a supportive arm around his trim waist… a warm, familiar sensation. Flynn took the hint and hooked his elbow around his neck, where Nate took hold of his wrist.  
  
"Jesus Christ," Nate mumbled, taking an unsteady step forward. Flynn slumped against him, with his head resting against Nate’s shoulder. His bloodied hand clutched the front of Nate's Henley.  
  
"Exactly," Flynn chuckled weakly. Droplets of crimson were spattering on the pale marble as they moved with Nate supporting his partner’s weight. "And we’re getting blood all over his house. Tsk tsk…"  
  
Nate turned his head, his lips brushing gently against Flynn’s forehead. The slightest of touches… and he could feel the sweat there. He knew it was bad, but Flynn would never admit it.  
  
"Well, let’s get out of here before we’re both doomed to hell."  
  
Flynn’s breath was hot against Nate’s ear, voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down his spine: “Afraid it’s too late for that.”


	8. DrakexFlynn, No Way Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No Way Out" prompt for the lovely wendydoodles on tumblr! Because cave-ins should never be time wasted.

"Uh… that’s not good."  
  
"No shit, Sherlock. Bloody _genius_ you are.”

How could Nate have possibly known that the cave’s entrance would decide to collapse shortly after they’d blown their way through with dynamite?   
  
Okay, it had sounded better in his head.  
  
"So," Flynn huffed, taking out his cell to provide a bit of light in the otherwise pitch-black cavern. "What do we do now?"

  
Nate turned sheepishly to regard Flynn, his hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. Flynn was standing, hands upon his hips in a classic display of impatience.  
  
"I’m thinking, I’m thinking…"  
  
"Don’t hurt yourself, mate."  
  
Nate’s eyes narrowed as he reached for his own flashlight at his belt and switched it on. “I’d like to see you come up with something for a change, smart guy.”  
  
"Touchy, touchy," said Flynn, in a mocking tone. "I thought we established that you were the brains of the operation. Though you may want to revoke that title…"  
  
"Very funny," Nate crossed his arms. "Sully knows we’re here, at least… we can hope that he shows up and lends a hand."  
  
"Typical. And until then?"   
  
Nate shrugged. “Start digging?”  
  
Even in the dim lighting, Nate could see that the idea wasn’t what Flynn had hoped to hear. His partner closed the distance between them, the shadows playing upon Flynn’s features as he pocketed his phone.  
  
"I think I’ve got a better idea…"  
  
Before he could react, Flynn’s fingertips were drumming against Nate’s belt buckle, where he promptly moved to switch Nate’s flashlight off. Nate froze, heart racing… the last thing he saw was a familiar smirk before they were consumed by darkness once again.  
  
"… and I think you’re going to like it."


	9. DrakexFlynn, Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got a challenge of sorts to combine the word "cat" and DrakexFlynn somehow... well if this is what you were expecting, you sure got it.

Nate was sitting at his desk, one palm supporting his chin and the other propping his newest research book open. It was late and he was dozing off… though still trying his hardest to concentrate.  
  
A flick of his ear startled him, causing him to jump visibly. A moment later and Flynn was leaning over him, palms on his shoulders to get a better look.  
  
"Somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me, mate?"  
  
Nate chuckled, glancing at Flynn briefly and then back down at the photos of fluffy house cats staring up at him. The ridiculousness of the situation didn’t go unnoticed.  
  
"Oh. Uh… a girl I’m seeing wants one. Figured I’d look into it."  
  
Flynn, as always, didn’t miss a beat. “I thought you’d sworn off pussy.”  
  
"Hah, not quite."  
  
Flynn gave Nate’s shoulders a firm squeeze, making him tense somewhat. He made a point to yawn directly into his ear, his hold on him releasing as he strutted casually across the living room.  
  
"Well, off to bed for me," he said, in his best overly-tired voice. Clearly bullshitting. He turned his head to glance at Nate over his shoulder, hands reaching low to pull his t-shirt up halfway. One swift movement, and his shirt was over his head, discarded lazily as he tossed it across the room. Nate stared. The well-toned muscles of his back… those prominent shoulder blades…  
  
 _God damn him._  
  
He hesitated, glancing between the mocking sight of the kitten-filled pages… and the sight of Flynn’s shirtless form.  
  
"Hold up," Nate sighed, shutting the book. "I’m coming…"

Flynn merely grinned. "So soon?"


End file.
